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Authors: Gabriel Hunt
Tags: Fiction
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Gabriel’s shoulder.
“You’re on the right track,” Joyce said. “A bolt of lightning might fuse the sand in a limited area, right where it struck. But not an area that large. A thousand bolts of lightning, though, directed simultaneously at a single target…”
“The wrath of the storm god,” Gabriel said.
“Precisely,” Joyce said. “Teshub was a storm god the way Thor or Zeus were storm gods. He wasn’t the god of rain or wind or hail, he was the god of thunder and lightning. And what is lightning but raw, unbridled electricity? A sufficiently strong blast…it could do to Sargonia what you saw in the photo. If it had the power of a small nuclear reactor.”
Noboru whistled softly. “Sounds like a weapon to me.”
“Sure,” Joyce said, “if you use it to attack a city. But what if you used it to power a city? I think the Spearhead is a source of power—not military power, not necessarily, but electrical power. Some sort of natural generator. And according to the descriptions in Hittite literature, it required no fuel to operate, gave off no byproducts—just pure, clean energy.” Her eyes lit up as she spoke about it. “Can you imagine the good that kind of technology could do for the world? Think of it. Cheap, efficient energy. No pollution, no radiation. You could use it to power entire nations. It could power water purification plants, hydrobotanical gardens. It could wipe out the need for oil, coal, gas, nuclear energy.” She touched Gabriel’s hand. “That’s the potential of this discovery. It could change the world.”
Gabriel studied her face. She was sincere. All tracesof the mischievous child he remembered were gone, but there remained a childlike quality, a belief in the potential for a discovery like this to improve the world rather than destroy it.
He handed the book to Noboru. “It’s a weapon,” he said.
Chapter 7
“Get some sleep,” Gabriel said. “I’ll take first watch.” They’d moved Joyce into a room whose mattress and window were intact and had dragged another mattress into the hallway outside the door. Noboru was lying on the mattress, his shoes beside him, his knife in its sheath within easy reach. Gabriel sat across the hall with his back to the wall and his Colt in his lap.
“You think they’re going to come back tonight?” Noboru said. He fished a small, square pillbox out of his pants pocket, opened it, popped a pill in his mouth and snapped his head back to swallow it. When he saw Gabriel watching him with a raised eyebrow, he said, “To help me sleep,” and put the pillbox back in his pocket. He rubbed his chest with a grimace and then lay back on the mattress.
“I don’t know,” Gabriel said. “But I don’t like them knowing where we are.”
Gabriel should have been tired, but his nerves were still in tight coils after the fight with the cult. He sat in the dark, facing the door, listening for any sudden noises. Despite the reassurances he had given Joyce, he knew it was a bad idea to stay at the guesthouse tonight. But they didn’t have any better alternative. Joyce needed food and rest after her ordeal and Noboru did, too; in any event, it was too late to make the long drive back to Balikpapan safely. But even one night was arisk he would have preferred not to take. The guesthouse was the first place the cult would look for Joyce again, and for the Star of Arnuwanda. So Gabriel waited, and listened. Through a narrow window at the far end of the hall he watched the stars grow brighter, then begin to dim as dawn approached. Even with the sun still hours away, the room grew warmer. He peeled off his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat off his face and chest.
Still nothing. No sign of the cult, just Noboru’s gentle snores. Gabriel thought about waking him to let him take second watch, but he decided to let Noboru sleep.
When the stars disappeared from the window altogether and the sky faded from gray to blue, the door to Joyce’s room
“You’re on the right track,” Joyce said. “A bolt of lightning might fuse the sand in a limited area, right where it struck. But not an area that large. A thousand bolts of lightning, though, directed simultaneously at a single target…”
“The wrath of the storm god,” Gabriel said.
“Precisely,” Joyce said. “Teshub was a storm god the way Thor or Zeus were storm gods. He wasn’t the god of rain or wind or hail, he was the god of thunder and lightning. And what is lightning but raw, unbridled electricity? A sufficiently strong blast…it could do to Sargonia what you saw in the photo. If it had the power of a small nuclear reactor.”
Noboru whistled softly. “Sounds like a weapon to me.”
“Sure,” Joyce said, “if you use it to attack a city. But what if you used it to power a city? I think the Spearhead is a source of power—not military power, not necessarily, but electrical power. Some sort of natural generator. And according to the descriptions in Hittite literature, it required no fuel to operate, gave off no byproducts—just pure, clean energy.” Her eyes lit up as she spoke about it. “Can you imagine the good that kind of technology could do for the world? Think of it. Cheap, efficient energy. No pollution, no radiation. You could use it to power entire nations. It could power water purification plants, hydrobotanical gardens. It could wipe out the need for oil, coal, gas, nuclear energy.” She touched Gabriel’s hand. “That’s the potential of this discovery. It could change the world.”
Gabriel studied her face. She was sincere. All tracesof the mischievous child he remembered were gone, but there remained a childlike quality, a belief in the potential for a discovery like this to improve the world rather than destroy it.
He handed the book to Noboru. “It’s a weapon,” he said.
Chapter 7
“Get some sleep,” Gabriel said. “I’ll take first watch.” They’d moved Joyce into a room whose mattress and window were intact and had dragged another mattress into the hallway outside the door. Noboru was lying on the mattress, his shoes beside him, his knife in its sheath within easy reach. Gabriel sat across the hall with his back to the wall and his Colt in his lap.
“You think they’re going to come back tonight?” Noboru said. He fished a small, square pillbox out of his pants pocket, opened it, popped a pill in his mouth and snapped his head back to swallow it. When he saw Gabriel watching him with a raised eyebrow, he said, “To help me sleep,” and put the pillbox back in his pocket. He rubbed his chest with a grimace and then lay back on the mattress.
“I don’t know,” Gabriel said. “But I don’t like them knowing where we are.”
Gabriel should have been tired, but his nerves were still in tight coils after the fight with the cult. He sat in the dark, facing the door, listening for any sudden noises. Despite the reassurances he had given Joyce, he knew it was a bad idea to stay at the guesthouse tonight. But they didn’t have any better alternative. Joyce needed food and rest after her ordeal and Noboru did, too; in any event, it was too late to make the long drive back to Balikpapan safely. But even one night was arisk he would have preferred not to take. The guesthouse was the first place the cult would look for Joyce again, and for the Star of Arnuwanda. So Gabriel waited, and listened. Through a narrow window at the far end of the hall he watched the stars grow brighter, then begin to dim as dawn approached. Even with the sun still hours away, the room grew warmer. He peeled off his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat off his face and chest.
Still nothing. No sign of the cult, just Noboru’s gentle snores. Gabriel thought about waking him to let him take second watch, but he decided to let Noboru sleep.
When the stars disappeared from the window altogether and the sky faded from gray to blue, the door to Joyce’s room
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